


5 Times Steve and Bucky Almost Got Caught + 1 Time They Did

by DyslexicSquirrel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, this got more plotty than I expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicSquirrel/pseuds/DyslexicSquirrel
Summary: The title says it all
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 268





	1. 5 Times Steve and Bucky Almost Got Caught

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who has been reading my other stuff, sorry I still haven’t updated and am instead posting this, but um, yay I’m posting this? 😂 
> 
> I plan on finishing my 3 unfinished WIPs next year but I am still bogged down under event fics and real life. I wrote this cause I needed a break. 
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone enjoys! This was supposed to be an excuse to write Steve/Bucky smut but it got plotty and schmoopy and yeah.

**1.**

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Steve murmured against Bucky’s lips, warm breathe brushing against his skin. 

Bucky smirked and grabbed a handful of Steve’s bony behind, pulling him closer, their hard lengths pressing together. “Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop, doll.” 

“We’re in your parents house, in the room you share with your little brother,” Steve protested, but he didn’t move from Bucky’s lap, long, delicate fingers clutching Bucky’s shoulders. His cheeks were red, a color Bucky knew from experience disappeared beneath the collar of his undershirt. Bucky ran a finger against the cotton where it was still tucked into the waistband of Steve’s trousers. They’d known each other for a long time and had seen one another in various states of undress over the years, but ever since they’d started fooling around, Bucky hadn’t been able to coax Steve farther than taking his shirt off. The idiot was  _ shy  _ all of a sudden. 

And Bucky couldn’t get him to stop fretting about his family catching them in the act. He couldn’t resist teasing, “And who’s the one who refused to find a place of our own and move in together?” 

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his big, dumb mouth when Steve’s face fell, shoulders slumping. “You know I can’t leave mom. I’m all she has, Buck.” 

“Hey, I know. I’m sorry.” He cupped Steve’s cheeks, pressing a gentle, consolatory kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I always seem to stick my foot in my mouth with you.” 

“You’re always so charming with the ladies. I kinda like the fact that I get you all flustered.” 

“Punk,” Bucky growled in mock outrage, transferring his grip to Steve’s slim hips, twisting around so Steve was flat on his back under him with his legs still on either side of Bucky’s hips. 

“Buck,” Steve squawked, opening his mouth to lay into him about being manhandled, no doubt. Bucky chuckled, planting a messy, open mouthed kiss on his best friend to shut him up, but when he lifted his head, met those blue eyes of Steve’s, he sobered. 

“I just never liked any of those girls as much as I like you,” he admitted and all of Steve’s ire leached out of his body, going soft under him. 

Steve ran his hand through Bucky’s hair, upsetting the carefully pomaded locks. “Bucky, I—”

The front door slammed hard enough to shake the walls of the duplex and that could only mean one thing. Both men’s eyes went wide, heads turning toward the closed bedroom door. As one, they scrambled apart. In a low, urgent voice, Steve’s tone accusatory, he snapped, “I thought all the kids were at school.” 

“They’re supposed to be,” he shot back, doing up the buttons of his shirt, momentarily distracted by Steve doing the same. He really wanted his hands on all the skin he still hadn’t been able to uncover, but shook his head and got a move on. His little brother was home and Bucky didn’t want to have to try to explain this—not Steve being there, he was like another member of the family, had been around before Patrick was even born, but them both with mussed hair and wrinkled clothes, flushed and sweaty. Patrick was young, but he wasn’t stupid. 

They somehow managed to put themselves back together and situate themselves in a normal way, Bucky sitting on his bed, with a comic book in his lap, Steve perched on the windowsill with his sketch pad, when Bucky’s baby brother burst through the door. He froze at the sight of the two of them. “Thought you’d be at work,” he stammered. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school,” he countered. 

“Got in trouble. They sent me home.” Patrick flushed, but his chin kicked up in a stubborn gesture he was all too familiar with from watching Steve get in fights. His brother had been spending too much time with Steve, he thought with a long suffering sigh. 

“Jesus Christ, Patty,” he groaned. 

“I’m telling ma you took the Lord’s name in vain,” his brother tainted. 

Bucky burst his bubble real quick. “I’m telling her you got kicked out of school.” 

Their dad might be a giant bear of a man, but their ma was the one all the Barnes kids were afraid of—her and her wooden spoon. Patrick winced, whining, “Please, don’t tell.” 

“Lay off him, Buck,” Steve spoke up for the first time since Patrick walked in. His brother shot him a triumphant look and stuck out his tongue. 

“Get lost, runt,” Bucky growled, picking up a dime store paperback from beside his bed and throwing it toward the door, knowing Patrick would be fast enough to avoid it. 

“Don’t be so hard on him,” Steve chided when Patrick was gone, retreating to the kitchen to do his homework. 

“You’re too nice.” So, Bucky was grumpy. Sue him. Blue balls would do that to a guy.

“I wanted to spend time alone, too, ya know,” Steve said softly, and Bucky turned to look at him. Steve’s eyes conveyed all the longing they both felt since the moment they realized how they really felt about each other, the feelings they couldn’t express in public. 

Bucky sighed. “I know, doll. I know.” 

**2.**

“Come inside?” Steve sighed, sounding almost scared, and Bucky wouldn’t have picked up on it if he hadn’t known him for so long. “If I’m staying at your parents’ place, I need to grab a few things.” 

Bucky was getting what he wanted, but the victory felt hollow. He hated seeing Steve like this and nodded, because of course if Steve needed him he would be there. He raised a hand and brushed his fingers along the back of Steve’s neck when he bent his head to unlock the door, there and gone, mindful of watching eyes. 

“Just give me a sec, okay?” Steve asked, finger fidgeting with the key, pushing his hair back. Bucky closed the door and waited until Steve finally raised his eyes before giving in to the desire to kiss him, wrap his arms around the smaller man, shield him with his body, trying to protect him from things there was no protection from. Steve shuddered, leaned into Bucky’s body like he couldn’t get close enough, and even when Bucky felt the tears that wet Steve’s cheeks, he kept kissing him, letting Steve be the one who ended it because he needed to breathe. 

Steve’s face pressed against his chest, hands clenched in his shirt, wetness soaking into the fabric. Bucky tightened his arms, knowing Steve hated being weak like this, but also knowing he needed it. Sometimes you just needed to fall apart and when your mother had just died, it was one of those times. But Steve was always so damn stoic, not wanting to give anyone more reasons to think he wasn’t strong, except he was the strongest man—the strongest person—Bucky had ever known, no matter how small he was. 

The funeral had been hell, the sky hazy and overcast, Bucky standing close to Steve, jealous of his damn mother for being able to offer him comfort in public when Bucky couldn’t. It should have been him with his arm around Steve’s shoulders, but doing so would borrow trouble and Steve found enough of that on his own. 

“Buck, what the hell am I gonna do now?” Steve’s voice was choked, muffled against Bucky’s chest. 

“We find our own place, just you and me.” He was an asshole for pushing this now of all times, the same thing he’d been asking since he turned eighteen, just waiting for Steve to graduate, wanted it since before he realized he loved Steve more than life itself. The idea of having their own apartment where they could touch each other freely away from prying eyes and judgement, sleep curled around each other. He was tired of having to sneak around, worried about his brother walking in on them again like he had, had it only been a few months ago? Lips pressed against Steve’s soft hair, he said, “Let me take care of you, doll.” 

Steve moved, but only enough to lift his head, tipping it back to look up at Bucky. He was so damned beautiful, even with puffy eyes and a runny nose. “We take care of each other.” 

Bucky didn’t answer just kissed him again, shuffling them forward until Steve’s back hit the wall next to the kitchen doorway. He trailed a line of kisses down his throat, nipping at the delicate skin, moving his hands so they were curved around Steve’s waist. One of Steve’s slid into his hair, the other gripping his shoulder, and he let his head fall back with a dull thud, giving Bucky more access. He had just gotten the top button of Steve’s shirt undone when he heard it. 

The scrape of a cane on the landing outside proceeded Mrs. McIntyre opening the door of the apartment. Bucky stepped back quickly, thankful for the fact that the old lady was blind as a bat. She came to a stop just inside the door, squinting at them through the thick lenses of her glasses. 

“Oh, dear, I didn’t know you had company,” she rasped in her thick Irish accent that had never abated a fraction after living in America for half her life. “Heard you come back and wanted to check on you.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. McIntyre,” Steve said, sounding a little breathless, but hopefully she would chalk it up to asthma. 

“Bah.” She waved off the thanks with one wrinkled, gnarled hand. She clucked her tongue, made the sign of the cross. “Couldn’t do any less. That poor, sainted mother of yours. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. Wish I could have gone to the service.” 

“It’s alright, Mrs. McIntyre.” Steve tried you smile, but it came off more like a grimace. “I’m sure she understands.” 

She reached out to pat his hand. “I’ll keep praying for you, dear. For both of you.” 

Steve nodded. “I’d appreciate that, ma’am.” 

Those rheumy eyes of hers turned to Bucky. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You take care of this boy, you hear, James?” 

“Of course, ma’am.” That was exactly what Bucky had planned to do, just maybe not the way she intended. 

  
  
  





“That went even worse than I expected.” 

Steve walked next to him on their way home, as close as they dared. His hands were shoved into his pockets, shoulders drooping, curling in on himself. Bucky felt his heart drop like a stone, but forced himself to smile, be casual about the whole night. It was his last night before shipping out and he’d known how much Steve wanted to go to the Expo, had wanted to go himself, been looking forward to it, but now it felt like the night was ruined. Still he tried to salvage it, wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder, shaking him a bit, just two friends having a night out on the town. “I dunno, I think the blonde was playing hard to get. You should look her up later, show her a good time.” 

Steve pulled away, hands landing against Bucky’s chest so abruptly he stumbled back a step. “Shut up,” Steve hissed, spitting mad as an alley cat. “This isn’t some joke, Buck.” 

“Come on, Stevie, calm—”

“If you tell me to ‘calm down’, James Buchanan Barnes, I swear to God…” His fists curled around his sides, narrowed blue eyes glaring up at Bucky, daring him to finish that sentence. His chest was heaving like it did when he was on the verge of an asthma attack. 

People were looking at them, they’d just stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, after all. Steve, all spindly limbs and fire; Bucky in his uniform, trying to placate. He looked like a husband trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d dig himself in with his wife, and that thought sent panic lancing through Bucky’s veins. He grabbed Steve’s arm and dragged him into the nearest alley, deep down, away from the street lights, behind a dumpster. It smelled like garbage and piss, but it was closer than their apartment and safer than the street. The last thing Bucky needed was Steve getting outed when he was about to board a ship to Europe. They weren’t in Brooklyn, sure, and as much as another borough seemed like a different country, too many people from home were around for the Expo. Steve wouldn’t know a moment of peace if anyone found out and he was already a magnet for trouble. 

He pushed Steve against the wall, caging him in, hoping the muted colors of his uniform would further camouflage them from view, but also because he needed to be close. Steve pushed him again, but Bucky was ready for it this time and didn’t budge an inch. That just made Steve angrier and he tried to duck under Bucky’s arm. He knew all Steve’s tricks, though, and blocked him. 

Steve glared up at him, eyes luminous in the scant light from the moon. “Get the hell out of my way.” 

“Not until you tell me what has your back up like this.” 

Steve looked at him in incredulity, like Bucky was the biggest idiot on the planet. “Why did you have to invite them? I—I asked you not to, Buck.” 

Steve sounded so damn broken and Bucky had done that. He opened his mouth, but closed it again without speaking. How was he supposed to explain it? Yeah, Steve had asked Bucky not to invite the girls, after Bucky had mentioned it, while they cuddled on their threadbare couch when Steve got home from his art class. Maybe pleaded was a better word. 

“Buck, please. You’re leaving tomorrow,” Steve had said, sounding kind of desperate, but Bucky was desperate, too. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Steve alone for who knows how long, but the thought of him with another man was untenable. Bucky felt like he had just barely gotten to have Steve, despite their long years of friendship, and he was a greedy bastard—he didn’t want some other man replacing memories of him. Steve said he’d wait and Bucky believed him, but that was part of the problem. Steve would wait, he’d wait forever, even if Bucky never came back. 

So, he hadn’t canceled on the girls, dragging them along to the Expo, Steve looking miserable the whole time while Bucky tried to talk Steve up. The dames weren’t having it though, had eyes only for him and this damn uniform, which just meant they weren’t good enough for Steve. 

He was leaving and now Steve was mad at him. Bucky sighed, leaned his forehead against Steve’s, taking comfort in the fact that he let him, nails digging into the brick of the building behind Steve’s back. “I’m worried about you,” he finally admitted, because this was  _ Steve _ , his best friend. They told each other everything. “About you being alone.” 

“Buck,” Steve breathed, anger draining out of him like a popped balloon. “That won’t help. No one else will help. I’d still miss you no matter who else is around.” 

“Damnit, punk,” Bucky groaned, because he knew it was true, but he’d tried anyway. He claimed Steve’s mouth in a rough kiss, swallowing his moans, wedged one hand between Steve and the wall to grab his backside. How the hell was he supposed to live without this? The war was important, he didn’t regret enlisting, but God, he was going to miss Steve. 

Steve bit his lip, hard, showing that he hadn’t completely forgiven Bucky yet, and he pulled away to laugh, tonguing the blood from the abused flesh. Steve didn’t look at all guilty. He lowered his head to swoop in for another kiss when a noise at the head of the alley drew their attention. They both turned as a drunk man in tattered clothes stumbled toward them before collapsing on the other side of the dumpster, a snore announcing that he’d fallen asleep. 

Bucky tried to put Steve’s hair in some semblance of order, fixed his hat, pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s parted lips. “Let’s go home, doll. We have a few hours. I want to spend them with you.” 

Steve nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go, and heading toward the street. Bucky sighed and went after him, because as long as he could, he would follow Steve wherever he went. 




Bucky pushed the tent flap aside with more force than he’d needed, Steve startling before he relaxed when he realized who it was that was barging in while he was half dressed. Bucky about swallowed his tongue at the sight of him, broad chest bared to the chilly air, thick thighs encased in skin tight fabric. The body was as foreign as the locale, but his face was achingly familiar, same mop of blond hair that kept falling over his forehead, same blue eyes that looked at Bucky like he hung the moon. Steve took a step in his direction, but halted, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. 

Didn’t matter if he was a scrawny kid or an Adonis, Steve was still shy about Bucky seeing him naked. The skin of his cheeks and neck darkened with a blush, eyes dropping to the dirt and Bucky couldn’t wait any longer. He was on him in a second and even though he knew for a certainty that Steve could stop him if he wanted to (he had seen what he did as Azzano first hand), Steve allowed Bucky to manhandle him down on the army cot until he was spread out for his inspection. 

“I knew you’d do something stupid while I was gone, but this is something even for you,” he mused, running his hands over Steve’s chest, his arms, tracing his hips, down his legs, learning him all over again. Steve squirmed just the same, though. 

“We both did stupid things. Do I need to remind you who just got rescued?” Steve’s chin went up even as his back arched into the hand Bucky ran up his abs. His tone was teasing, but the lightness was forced. Steve had been scared. Now that Bucky was here, away from Hydra, he was allowing himself to feel it. He pressed a kiss over Steve’s heart, feeling how it beat strong in his chest, and closed his eyes. 

“We’re both okay now,” he spoke against Steve’s skin. He shifted slightly, wrapped his lips around one of Steve’s nipples and bit down, harder than necessary, loving the way Steve sucked in air through his teeth. Bracing his hands on the edges of the cot, Bucky levered himself up to loom over Steve. He didn’t give a damn if Steve was taller, bigger than him now, he was still Bucky’s punk, he  _ knew  _ him, he would do something stupid, and he needed Steve to listen. “We’re gonna stay that way if I have anything to say about it. You might be all super powered now, but I’ve got your back. Always. ‘Til the end of the line, Stevie.” 

Steve cupped his face between his big hands, fingers somehow still delicate, and smiled up at him. “That’s all I wanted. I had to find a way to follow you.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Rogers,” he growled against Steve’s lips before taking them like he’d dreamed about for months, throwing his leg over the cot to plant a knee next to Steve’s hip, using the one on the ground for leverage to grind their erections together. Those damn tights of Steve’s didn’t hide  _ anything _ . “Got bigger everywhere except your brain, I see,” he said softly against Steve’s kiss swollen lips, smirking when he pouted. It fell almost immediately. “Can’t believe you ran into the base alone.” 

“Couldn’t leave my best guy, could I?”

Hearing those words, Bucky got desperate, more desperate than he’s ever been. They couldn’t get as close as he wanted, they didn’t have the time, privacy, or supplies, but feeling Steve writhe under him was the next best thing. He was so close, knew Steve was, too, his grip on Bucky hurting slightly, but he didn’t care, just rocked his hips faster. They were seconds away from going off like rockets on the Fourth of July, when Steve tensed and not in the way Bucky had been anticipating. Steve was already out from under him, pulling on a shirt, when Bucky heard it and shot Steve a questioning look. Steve shrugged, but Bucky would have to press later because he could hear Dum Dum outside asking if anyone had seen him and someone else replied, “Think I saw him go in the Captain’s tent.” 

Bucky willed his erection down, hoping he looked someone presentable when Dum Dum stuck his head inside, guessing he succeeded because the other man said, “Boys and I are gonna get some grub. You two wanna join?” 

Bucky grunted because he didn’t care about food right now, but Steve who was buttoning up the shirt of his army uniform, still wearing those sinful leggings, said, “I’m always hungry.” 

Dum Dum saluted them and left. When Bucky turned back to Steve, scowling at the fact that they couldn’t finish what they started, Steve said, “What? I’m a growing boy.” Then dropped his pants. 

Bucky choked. 




Steve knew he wasn’t alone as soon as he walked in the door to his apartment after his run. After weeks in the hospital, he had been looking forward to being back at home, sleeping in his own bed, even though he was in the middle of moving back to New York, upstate, at the new Avengers complex. He’d been back for a few days, but instead of feeling comforted by the familiar surroundings, he felt restless. Bucky was out there somewhere, buried inside the Winter Soldier. He wouldn’t have saved Steve from the river if he wasn’t in there somewhere, right? Steve was sure he had seen recognition in his eyes for just a moment. And now someone had broken in, was waiting for him. His heart rate picked up because something, some indefinable  _ feeling _ crawling through the air and over his senses, said he knew who it was. 

Slowly, Steve set his keys and phone on the table by the door, taking a few more steps inside. His eyes flicked briefly to the shield, but if it was Bucky he didn’t want to spook him. And if it wasn’t Bucky, well, he’d have to duck really fast if someone opened fire. Purposely keeping his movements slow, easy, his breathing steady, Steve rounded the corner, but after a quick scan he found no one. His eyes went to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. He took a deep breath and walked down the hall. Bucky wasn’t in the bathroom or the spare bedroom, which Steve was using for storage while he packed. His focus shifted to the slightly open door to his bedroom at the end of the hall. 

He crept down the hall on silent feet, nudged the door open with his foot, and edged himself slowly around the door frame to see if Bucky was there or someone else or if he was just going crazy. That was as far as he got. The movement was so fast, Steve’s enhanced eyes barely registered it. One second he was in the hall, the next he was pressed against the wall in his bedroom, two hundred plus pounds of super soldier pressed against him, metal arm against his neck. 

Steve blinked the white spots away because Bucky hadn’t exactly been gentle, Steve’s head slamming into the drywall so hard it left a dent, but he didn’t fight, forced his muscles to relax even though all his training was screaming at him to get free. There was a bigger part that wanted to press closer, nuzzle into Bucky’s neck, but this wasn't the man he’d know. Despite what Tony and Natasha thought, he wasn’t  _ that  _ naive. So, he did the only thing he could and just stayed there, pinned like an insect. 

Bucky’s face was half hidden by a ball cap and his hair, casting shadows across most of his features, but Steve could see his eyes. The light blue that used to look at Steve like he was the only person in the world were now flat. 

_ “You’re my mission.”  _ The remembered shout echoed in his head. He drew in a long, measured breath. 

“Bucky, what—”

The stranger wearing his best friend’s, his former lover’s, face cut him off. “Who are you?” 

His heart sank. Bucky didn’t even remember who he was? “I’m Steve Rogers. I—”

“No,” Bucky cut him off again, arm pressing a fraction harder against Steve’s trachea, head lifting so his hair feel back, revealing more of his face. He was gaunt, dark circles under his eyes, eyes that narrowed, but Steve would take that over an emotionless void. “Who are you to me? Why do I want to—”

He stopped abruptly, eyes jerking to the side, frustration radiating off him like a physical force. When they landed on Steve again, they were dark. He growled, “Why do I  _ want _ ? I should be on a different continent, but I can’t stay away from you.” 

Steve’s lips parted, but no words were forthcoming, his mind grinding to a halt. He could feel a flush warming his face. Bucky’s body pressed to his no longer felt menacing. Or it did, but it was also questioning, demanding,  _ hard _ . It had been so long, but it also felt like yesterday since the last time Bucky touched him. Not the Winter Soldier, broken and confused and angry, lashing out against his memories and all he’d been through, what Hydra made him—but Bucky. Different, but the same where it counted, body curving around Steve’s even though he wasn’t small and fragile anymore. 

“Tell me!” Steve took too long answering and Bucky lost patience, jerking Steve to push him against the wall again, pressing the long length of his body more firmly against Steve’s. They were touching from chest to knees, faces inches apart. 

This isn’t helping, you ass, he thought a bit hysterically. Steve shook his head as much as he could with the cold metal still against his throat, not hurting him, not really, but still a threat, clearing the haze enough to speak, but it was hard to get the words out. “We were friends, grew up together. But also...more.” 

Bucky’s head tilted, eyes still narrowed, but there was less hostility there. He was trying to process it all. Steve couldn’t begin to imagine what a jumble his head was. “Explain.” 

“We were lovers,” he whispered hoarsely. It was all he could stay. How did you even begin to explain how a single person had been your everything? 

Bucky’s head straightened, eyes clearing, but his next words made Steve flinch. “We fucked.” 

Eyes clenched tight, Steve turned his head away, metal plates on the arm scraping his skin. More evidence that this wasn’t the man he had known. Bucky had never been that crass, even when he started cursing more on the front, the war stripping politeness from everyone. There wasn’t time for that when you were trying not to die. “It was more than that.” 

Bucky’s flesh hand gripped his chin, forcing Steve’s head around. Stubbornly, he kept his eyes closed. “Show me,” Bucky said softly. 

Steve’s eyes flew open, his mouth fell open, staring at Bucky in disbelief. He sputtered. “What?” 

Bucky leaned closer, the tips of his fingers rubbing gently against Steve’s chin. “Show. Me,” he repeated, an order, a challenge, the warmth of his breath brushed Steve’s ear making him shiver, and when he looked at Steve again, he almost looked like Bucky—something in the set of his shoulders, the light in his eyes, the quirk to his lips that was there and gone so fast Steve thought he might have imagined it. 

This was a horrible idea. The Winter Soldier, Bucky, whoever he was now was just getting back to being a person after years of being a living weapon, put away in a box when they were done with him, until the fancy to play with him again struck. Did he really know what he was asking for? Steve searched his face, looking for any signs of uncertainty, but found only determination and curiosity. Slowly, Steve raised one of his hands and wrapped it around the metal wrist, cold beneath his fingers but warming quickly from the heat of his skin. Bucky’s eyes flicked to it then back to Steve’s face, but didn’t stop him. He was tense, coiled, waiting for an attack, but when all Steve did was tug until Bucky allowed the arm to be shifted down so he could lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, he relaxed slightly. 

The stubble shadowing Bucky’s jaw rasped against his lips. He still thought this was a bad idea, but when Bucky said again, “Show me,” voice husky, pupils widening in a way Steve suspected his own were mirroring, he thought, I’ve never been able to deny you anything. Why would now be different? 

Steve kissed him, trying to coax Bucky to part his lips, running his tongue along the lower one. His own eyes were closed, but he could feel Bucky’s eyes staring at him. It was disconcerting, but he didn’t want to stop. It felt too good, the feel of Bucky after so long. It was a matter of years to him, his time in the ice nothing but a blur he saw in his nightmares. But Bucky had been awake for much of his time after the train, slightly older than Steve remembered him, and now his memories were coming back. Steve pulled away from the kiss Bucky was starting to relax into, shuddering, head dropping to Bucky’s shoulder and his arms encircling the other man. “I’m so sorry, Buck. God, I thought I lost you.” 

Bucky hushed him, his flesh hand carding through Steve’s hair, the touch just shy of impersonal, but the metal arm pulled from between their bodies to brace against the wall behind Steve, and he allowed Steve to close the space it freed up between them. “I’m not lost, Steve.” 

The voice speaking so close to his ear wasn’t quite the same, deeper than he remembered, the cadence not quite right, but it was Bucky damn it, and hearing him say his name set off an explosion inside his brain that filtered to the rest of his body. His hands flew to Bucky’s hair, knocking his hat off, lips pressing to Bucky’s, hard and messy with too much teeth. He pushed, trying to tell Bucky to back up. He got the message, but turned them to he was the one herding Steve toward the bed, earning a moan for the action. His hand, the metal one, fisted in Steve’s hair, angling his head as Bucky took over the kiss, and it was so good, better than he remembered. Bucky had never been this rough with him, even the few times after the serum they had managed to sneak away when Steve’s new body could take it, when Bucky  _ couldn’t  _ hurt him. He still acted like Steve was the fragile asthmatic with the bent spine and the bad heart. 

This Bucky had no such compunctions. He bit at Steve’s lips, tugged his hair too hard, dug fingers into his hip that left bruises which barely formed before they healed. He kissed Steve hungrily, rough but skilled, proving it was just like riding a bike. That or maybe Bucky hadn’t been celibate all these years. Steve shoved that thought away because the implications of it were something he didn’t want to think about. He didn’t know how long he’d have with Bucky and he didn’t want to waste it thinking of horrible things that made him want to punch a wall. 

The backs of Steve’s knees hit the bed and then he was falling backwards, the support of Bucky’s arms gone, letting him land on the mattress. He blinked up at Bucky, panting, wondering if he looked as wrecked as he felt, as Bucky ran his eyes up and down his body making him shiver. He waited for Bucky to take over like he normally did, but he was stock still, hands fisted at his sides, chest like a bellows, erection straining against the fly of his jeans. Eyes completing their circuit of Steve’s body, they met his. 

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped. 

‘Again’ was implied, but left unsaid. Steve’s heart skipped a beat. Not long ago Bucky had been willing to kill him, shot him more than once, beat him nearly to death, and now he was afraid to hurt him. He sat up, fisted a hand in the back of his shirt, and stripped it over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Not gonna break, Buck.” 

Bucky mulled it over, then began carefully, methodically stripping himself of clothes and weapons, piling everything up carefully on top of the dresser. His clothes were folded neatly, weapons laid out beside them—three guns, extra ammo, an assortment of knives, mini grenades, numerous holsters. It shouldn’t have been such a turn on, but lust hit him like a fist, cock twitching in his shorts, getting harder when he hadn’t thought that was possible, and not just from all the skin Bucky was uncovering. He had more muscle now, his chest and shoulders broader. His left shoulder and the area surrounding it was a mass of scars where the metal arm attached. His body was already a weapon, like Steve’s, maybe even more, but still he loaded himself down. His own personal arsenal and the sight was breathtaking. Hadn’t he always enjoyed the way Bucky held his sniper rifle? 

Bucky turned around, raising a single brow when he saw Steve was in the same position he’d been when Bucky started stripping. The silent reprimand got Steve moving. His shoes hit the ground with a thump, and he lifted his hips enough to push his shorts and underwear down and off his legs. He was reaching for his socks, feeling ridiculous with them still on, when Bucky’s thighs and the thick length between came into view, Bucky standing at the edge of the mattress. Steve forgot about his socks when Bucky tipped his chin up with his metal hand, thumb swiping over Steve’s lower lip. “How?” 

Steve swallowed, finding the words difficult to get out. He knew what Bucky was asking, but hadn’t ever had to say it out loud before. He had been inside Bucky a few times. It had been amazing, but it wasn’t what both of them preferred. Steve liked being held down and Bucky enjoyed doing the holding. Their furtive couplings during the war had been hasty, one or the other of them getting dragged into a supply closet or an office or a tent no one was using. It hadn’t mattered then who started what, just that they got their hands on each other, frantic and greedy. 

But when they had a bed, in their tiny apartment, Steve loved having Bucky caging him between his arms, pinning him to the wall, putting him where he wanted. It was what he longed for now, but he had to force his the words past a throat gone tight. “Inside me. Please.” 

Begging a world renowned assasin to fuck him, leaning into an hand that could snap his neck, wasn’t wise, Natasha and Sam would read him the riot act,l if they knew, but it was Bucky. They might still be on opposite sides of the fence—the reports of all the remaining Hydra bases in North America being blown to kingdom come were still rolling in. But they weren’t fighting, he was here, and Steve wanted to be selfish for once. 

Bucky took a step away and Steve bit back a whimper at the loss of contact. Bucky said nothing and he expression remained blank unless you were looking closely enough, which Steve was. He saw the minute twitch of his lips. “Always so needy, Stevie.” 

Steve’s eyes widened at the nickname and the words Bucky had said to him so many times. “Buck?” 

Bucky shook his head, confusion clouding his eyes, long hair brushing his cheeks, and the moment was gone. The remnants of the old Bucky disappeared, replaced by the menacing edge of the Winter Soldier. Flesh fingers wrapped around his dick, striking idly, making Steve lick his lips. Bucky looked at him through his lashes. “Get yourself ready.” 

Steve let out a shuddering breath, pausing before pushing himself further up the bed to grab the lube from his bedside table. It was going to hurt so much when this was over and Bucky left, because he would leave, Steve was sure of that. But he thought it would hurt more if he didn’t do this. 

It was hard to find a position where he could easily reach between his legs with his lubed fingers, press them inside, and it felt more difficult with Bucky watching him slowly sink a finger into his hole. His face flamed, but his hips kept twitching up to get his finger deeper and he added a second before he was ready, moaning at the burn, the stretch. He hadn’t had anything inside him since before the ice. He jerked off when the urge struck, but the desire to be filled had been absent until now. 

“Fuck,” he heard Bucky groan, realizing his eyes had closed and he’d missed Bucky coming closer, blinking them open when the mattress dipped. Bucky’s metal hand touched his hip, making him moan, the other hand still stroking his cock. He smeared the precome leaking from the tip around the head with his thumb, using it to ease the way for his fist. 

Steve started to withdrawal his fingers, about to tell Bucky he was ready even though he wasn’t, he just didn’t care, but Bucky grabbed his wrist. Steve’s head jerked up. Bucky slowly shook his head. “Another.” 

His voice alone was enough to destroy Steve, so much deeper than it used to be. Steve sunk his fingers back inside, scissoring them until he was loose enough to fit in a third. He started panting when Bucky picked up the lube and slicked up his own dick. This time he didn’t protest when Steve slid his fingers free, his hole clenching around them. 

One of Bucky’s hands clamped onto his knee, pushing it up and out, spreading him as wide as he could. The head of Bucky’s dick pressing against his hole made his breath catch. He tried to push down against it, but the hand on his knee held him in place and Bucky slowly pushed inside. Steve guessed he’d been serious about the whole not hurting him thing, but Steve had meant it when he said he wouldn’t break. He wrapped his other leg around Bucky’s waist, used all his enhanced strength, and pulled until Bucky bottomed out. 

The man above him bit off a curse, free hand landing next to Steve’s head to catch himself when the sudden movement caught him off balance. “Damnit, Rogers,” he growled. 

“Don’t hold back. I can take it,” he said, pulling Bucky into a kiss. He was so desperate now, any embarrassment he felt was pushed to the back of his mind, asking for what he wanted was easier. 

Bucky kissed him back, all tongue and teeth, but when he drew his hips back, it was slow like molasses. He was about to complain when Bucky’s hips snapped forward. After that, Steve barely had a moment to think, Bucky’s thrust just shy of brutal, and he loved it. He was reduced to a writhing, panting mess and that was before Bucky moved Steve’s knee, changing the angle, brushing against Steve’s prostate every time he thrust forward. He came embarrassingly fast, spilling over his stomach and down his chest with the way Bucky had his hips lifted, and Bucky wasn’t far behind. He spilled inside Steve, hot and seemingly endless, the twitching of his cock keeping Steve on edge. Steve laid there and took it, holding their pelvises close together, until Bucky collapsed next to him on the bed.

His eyes slid closed, legs splayed, one still trapped under Bucky’s considerable bulk, come leaking out of his ass. He let out a deep sigh of… it wasn’t contentment, but it was as close to peace as he’d felt in years. Bucky’s hand, the flesh one, coasted up his side, and hummed appreciatively, pressing into it. 

From one second to the next, Bucky was gone, the bathroom door clicking shut behind him before Steve even realized what was happening. He sat up, surprised to see the sheet thrown over his hips, all of Bucky’s clothes and weapons gone from the dresser, and he opened his mouth to ask what he was doing when he heard movement out in the living room that was almost masked by the shower in the adjacent bathroom turning on. He groaned because he knew who it was. Not many people could sneak up on him, but Natasha could get closer than most. Bucky didn’t seem to have the same problem. 

Why the hell had he given Nat a key? Oh, right, because she kept breaking in otherwise.

Realizing there wasn’t anything he could do about his current clothesless state, silently thanking Bucky for tossing the sheet over his lap before slipping silently away, obliterating every trace of himself from the room except the already healing bite marks on his neck and what was still slowly leaking into the sheets under him, Steve called out, “You need something?” 

The almost silent footsteps paused, then Nat gave up trying to hide her presence, walking into the room like she owned the place. “You didn’t answer your phone. We have a—”

She froze in the doorway, taking in Steve naked in the mussed bed with his arms crossed over his chest, perturbed, looked at the closed bathroom door, heard the shower, and smirked at Steve. “Guess I don’t need to set you up with that new trainee, Kelly, do I?” 

“No,” he said with finality. Steve never went on any of the blind dates Natasha threatened to set him up on anyway. It had always been Bucky for him, always would be, but he wasn’t ready to admit his sexuality to anyone, even the friends he knew wouldn’t have a problem with it. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you. We have a mission, though. Bunch of terrorists don’t know how to keep their bombs to themselves. I’ll be downstairs.” She turned to leave, but glanced back over her shoulder. “I hope you’re being safe, Steve.” 

At his look of confusion, she rolled her eyes. “Condoms, Steve. Condoms.” Then she walked away. 

He felt a blush work its way up his neck and allowed himself a second to fall back against the pillows and groan. Then he got up and headed for the bathroom. He knew Bucky would be gone, but part of him still hoped he’d be there when he pushed the door open. 

He wasn’t—the window ajar, letting Steve know Bucky had climbed out the fifth floor window instead of risking Black Widow finding him in Steve’s bed. Smart move, as much as Steve resented it. 

But Bucky had left him a message and it gave him hope, something he’d been sorely lacking. On the fogged up mirror was written ‘See ya.’ Steve smiled and stepped into the shower


	2. + 1 Time They Did

Bucky had goats. Multiple this time. The last he had been in Wakanda, there had only been one grazing in the fence surrounding his hut. Now there were four. Steve shook his head, a smile quirking his lips, as he approached. He opened the gate, the goats running over to nip at his pants and the hem of his shirt, just as Bucky pushed back the flap over the entrance of his hut with his right arm. The lump of his left shoulder where the metal arm was once attached under the fabric covering it still gave him a pang. Bucky didn’t want it back, had refused when T’Challa had said Shuri could make him a new one when they woke him from cryo, sure they had a way to remove Hydra’s programming. 

It had worked, but still Bucky didn’t want the arm back. Steve understood, but it still hurt to see the evidence of all he lost when he fell from the train so clearly. Bucky also hadn’t been willing to leave Wakanda. 

“Not yet, Steve. I’m not ready,” he’d said, gazing at Steve with a small smile while he stood outside the Quinjet, willing Steve to understand. He understood maybe better than most people would. He’d felt the same after coming out of the ice, the difference being that his mind had still been his own. So, Steve had squeezed Bucky’s hand, still not comfortable with public displays of affection, but Bucky rolled his eyes, slid a hand around the back of his neck, and kissed him. Face flaming, Steve walked up the platform, ignoring Natasha’s smirk. 

At least this way, Steve knew Bucky was safe because he had refuge in Wakanda, and he could visit whenever he had the time between missions. The criminal element of the world didn’t care about his personal life, though, and it wasn’t as often as he would have liked.

Bucky smiled and came to shoo the goats away so Steve could come in far enough to close the gate. He had been smiling more often, not as wide as the one Steve remembered from when they were kids, it was new and Steve held every sign of Bucky rediscovering who he was as something precious. They both had changed and they were still getting to know each other again. 

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, wrapping his arm around Steve, the goats trying to squeeze between them. Bucky chuckled when their lips parted, pushing away one of the goats who was head butting his stomach. “Let’s go inside before they eat the clothes off you.”

That was when Steve noticed another goat had snuck up behind him and started nipping at his t-shirt hem again. He followed Bucky inside the hut and got an eye roll when he stood by the door with his hands in his pockets. “Sit down, punk.” 

Steve’s lips twisted ruefully. He still felt awkward around Bucky. Except when they were in bed, he thought with a sigh as he sat on the wooden stool next to the table Bucky used as a desk and a dining table. He got another eye roll from Bucky, who was pouring hot water into two mugs for tea, one of the blends Bruce favored and had sent along in a care package. 

“It's supposed to have calming properties,” he’d told Steve when he handed over the tin. 

“Does it help?” Steve couldn’t help but ask. Bruce smile before going back to his lab, but it was devoid of amusement. Still Bucky liked it.

While he waited, Steve cast his eyes around the one room hut. Some of Steve’s sketches hung in frames on the walls, but otherwise it reminded Steve of their army tents. A wood burning stove in one corner, sleeping platform in the other, and the utilitarian table were the only things in the room. T’Challa has offered Bucky a room in the palace, but he’d refused that, too. 

Instead of bringing the tea to Steve, Bucky set one then the other of the mugs on the floor beside the bed, sat down with his back propped against the wall, and raised a challenging brow at Steve. Never one to back down, he took off his shoes and settled next to him, immediately losing the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying in his shoulders. Bucky handed Steve a mug then, but left his own where it was, choosing instead to rub at Steve’s shoulder with his right hand. “Long day?” 

“Long week,” Steve answered, but it had been a long month, a long year. Hell, a long few years. He was tired. He groaned when Bucky’s fingers dug into a particularly large knot, chin dropping to his chest. He had been shot at, punched, blown up, and stabbed so many times he had lost count. Not to mention all the training sessions with the new SHIELD recruits. He never told Bucky about any of it, respecting his decision to stay away from fighting, but he wanted to, desperately. He missed leaning on Bucky because he didn’t feel he could talk to anyone else the same way. He was close with Sam and Nat, and Tony was… well, their relationship was complicated, but Steve still considered him one of his best friends most days. But he and Bucky had history, a history that Bucky still didn’t remember all of. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Bucky asked, “Want to tell me about it?” Hand still rubbing away the accumulated stress. 

He did, but there was something else he wanted more. Half turning, he set down his mug and took Bucky’s hand, placing it on his hip. “Maybe later,” he said even though he had no intention of doing that. “Just kiss me.” 

Bucky looked as if he might refuse and call Steve on his bullshit—no one could read him like Bucky could, even now, but let it drop, pushing up to his knees, hand leaning on the mattress, so he could hold himself up as he kissed Steve and urged him to lean back. Steve went willingly, parting his legs so Bucky could settle between them, lips hot and possessive against his own. Steve moaned when Bucky rolled his hips, letting Steve feel how hard he was starting to get. Steve ran his hands up Bucky’s back, getting lost in the sensation of Bucky touching him. 

“Get your pants off, soldier,” Bucky growled in his ear, tongue licking up the shell, and Steve had to laugh because it was something he used to say back during the war. All the little signs of things he remembered warmed Steve’s heart. It didn’t lessen his arousal, though, his own cock pressing against his jeans, insistent for some attention. 

Steve removed his hands from Bucky’s back with reluctance and slid his hands between them to pop open the button of his jeans and lower the zipper. He had his jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs, Bucky busy trailing kisses down his throat, when one of the goats stuck its head inside and bleated. 

Bucky growled, getting up to cross to the door. “Rebecca, get the hell out of here,” he snapped, unceremoniously shoving the goat’s head back out the flap and securing it with hooks on the top and bottom. 

Steve sat frozen for half a second before he burst out laughing. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, feeling like an idiot since he was half naked, but he couldn’t stop. Between gasping breaths, Steve asked, “Did you really name a goat after your sister?” 

Bucky scowled, looking grumpy and adorable and it made Steve laugh harder. Bucky sat next to him, shooting Steve a look of fond exasperation. “It’s no less than she deserves.” 

It took Steve a while to get himself under control, but when he was down to chuckles, he wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled at Bucky. “I love you.” 

The words were out before he really thought about them and he froze. He hadn’t said those words to Bucky since reconnecting, not wanting to make him feel that he needed to reciprocate. His eyes went wide and he panicked, trying to think of what to say, but he hadn’t needed to worry because Bucky’s eyes softened, hand cupping Steve’s cheek. “I love you, too, punk.” 

“Really?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but pressed a kiss to Steve’s lax lips. “I’ve loved you for over a century. Even when I couldn’t remember you, I loved you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos give me life ❤️


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